High Tide
by an ounce of shag tobacco
Summary: To get Holmes out of Baker Street was a feat. To get Holmes out of London and into the seaside was what could be called an achievement. Mr Cartwright, a Blackpool photographer, has gone missing, leaving his wife and son seemingly without a clue as to where he has gone. However, things are not as they appear and it takes Holmes and Watson to clear up such sandy business. (SH JW)
1. Chapter 1

This is a collaboration with Spy'd R and was written in a RP. I took Holmes and she took Watson... So I hope you enjoy this thing. :)

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~1~

To get Holmes out of Baker Street was a feat. To get Holmes out of London and into the seaside was what could be called an achievement. Several days before, a women, Mrs Cartwright, had reported her husband, a photographer, missing. She had visited London to see her sister, who had in turn advised her to consult Holmes, who was very obliged to take the case. After weeks of boredom and the 7% solution screaming at him, he had no other choice. That is why both he and Watson were sat in a first class carriage to Blackpool.

Several hours had gone by now; in silence. Watson had enough of hearing only the rattle of the train and began to talk; hoping, yes almost praying, that Holmes would respond at all.  
"Have you reached any vital conclusion yet, Holmes?"

Holmes' gaze remained at the rolling hills and appearing sea.  
"I cannot theorize without data dear Watson. You of all people must know that by now surely?"  
Watson sighed desperately. "Yes Holmes. I do know, but to tell the truth, I am weary of the silence. You have not uttered a word, since we left Baker Street."

Holmes turned to face him now.  
"Oh my dear chap! I am terribly sorry." His voice was filled with  
apology and slight jest. "What is it you wish us to talk about?  
British birds? How Mrs Reynolds is keeping after her fall?"

"I would like to know more about the case, for, as you know, I came in when Mrs Cartwright was almost finished with her story. It seems to be a very complicated matter, is it not?"  
Watson asked, merely not to bore his friend.

"Mr Henry Cartwright was reported missing two weeks ago when he failed to return home after meeting a potential business partner. After day three of the search for Mr Cartwright, the police presumed him dead and called it off almost immediately. However, Mrs Cartwright told me she still believes he is alive and I do too, but I do not believe Mrs Cartwright will be happy when we find him. "

Watson chuckled in amazement and amusement. "Well, well, Holmes! You astonish me once more! Do you think the man has a love affair? But if that is so, why haven't you told her right then? If I may remark it; this is what you usually would have done."  
It was only a matter of fifteen minutes, until the train would reach its destination.

"I fancy some drama in this case Watson… Ah! We appear to have arrived." Once out on the platform, they collected their luggage and left the station to find Mrs Cartwright and her son waiting for them.  
"Oh, hello Mr Holmes, Dr Watson! Over here!"

Watson immediately rushed over to the woman, whereas Holmes took his time to approach her.  
"Good day, Mrs Cartwright! Have you received any news from your husband yet?" the doctor almost chimed. Mrs Cartwright's smile fell as she shook her head.

"I'm afraid not,but I still have hope. Little Peter here does too." She looked down at her son, pushing him forward a little.

"Say hello to Dr Watson and Mrs Holmes, Peter."

With a very timid kind of tone, the boy finally greeted the two visitors. Then Dr Watson declared, "I am sure, Mr Holmes will soon find your husband. He assured me only moments ago, that he is confident, to find your husband alive."

Holmes nodded and greeted both Mrs Cartwright and her boy.  
"Oh the news is most welcoming Mr Holmes, truly. I am just glad to  
know my thoughts are no longer alone. Oh, you do have accommodation to  
stay in?"

"An Inn would be just fine, Ma'am", replied Watson, hoping that she would not insist, for he hoped on a quiet night together with Holmes. The journey had after all been quite exhausting.

"Of course. There is the old Fox and Hound just down there. I'm sure  
they can make space for the great Sherlock Holmes." Mrs Cartwright  
said with a smile. "When shall I expect you tomorrow gentlemen?"  
"Ten." Holmes replied. "I'm sure I can wake Watson by then." He shot  
his friend a smile.

Watson returned the smile, but with a somewhat warning expression in his eyes.  
After they had parted, the doctor whispered to Holmes, "You have once again, read my thought like an open book, am I right?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders and turned to him with a smug look.  
"Perhaps. Most likely yes. Come on, let us find this inn and then you  
have me all to yourself."

After arriving at the Inn, which had, as fate seemed to wish, only one room left; but with two separate beds.  
"For you two gents, always!" The landlord had cried with excitement, for he knew exactly who these people were. Had he known, why they stayed here, he wouldn't have been so overjoyed; Watson had thought by himself.  
But now they were safe and sound. Holmes, tucked in his favourite blanket, which had been almost as good companion during the cases of the "Musgrave Ritual" and "The Devil's foot" while Watson himself was seated, without any kind of blanket on his own bed; looking at his…friend and then down to the glass of excellent Scotch he held in his hand.  
"Cheers, Holmes! To life!" Watson said, standing up, and approaching his companion.

Holmes grinned. "Yes, to life. And us and other things."

Watson now sat down next to Holmes on an old, somewhat tatty fur that seemed to have been a brown bear once. His hand gently slid under layers of blankets, jackets and waistcoats, until it came to a halt on only one, warm, slightly damp layer of white cotton shirt.

Holmes shuffled a bit. "Watson, now is not the time nor place and I'm  
on a case and you know the rule about…"

"Now it is me to break with the rules, Holmes…" Watson whispered seductively into his ear. "I am sure; it will help your thinking too. Just this once…" there was a pause, before Watson finished the sentence "…Sherlock."

Holmes sighed and bit his lip, turning to him. "Fine. But this once.  
But are you sure you they won't hear us?" He looked down at the  
floor."

"Then we need to be silent…" Watson said and grinned, for his trick had worked. Holmes could never resist, when his first name came into play. "And now…please, let me take that rug away."

Holmes pulled it away from his shoulders and passed it to Watson.  
"It's not a rug," He informed, lying back. "It's a blanket… Oh at  
least it isn't too springy."

Watson pressed a finger on Holmes' lips. "You can tell me later, my dear. Now focus on me."  
He opened the lying man's jacket very slowly. When he had done so, Watson made a move to sit on Holmes' waist to remove his waistcoat too.

Holmes reached up to kiss him, worming a hand into his soft hair.  
"This is extremely inappropriate Wat… John." He muttered between  
kisses.

Watson bent down, leaning on his hands to kiss Holmes' neck. He had learned in similar nights like this that his friend reacted strongly to this. The doctor inhaled the pleasant scent of the detective's soft skin. And then he let go of the air in his lungs, to take in a new portion of the smell he loved so much. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale… Holmes smiled, his hand moving Watson's face further into his neck.

"That tickles." He murmured, wrapping a leg around his friends.

Watson lowered even further down to his friend, kissing his long, slender neck now. When he was done there, leaving Holmes panting, he made his way up to the detective's hair, breathing in strongly, the intense smell of pomade. After that, he decided that it was time to release Holmes from these utterly distracting clothes.

"You do not talk…" Holmes moaned, as Watson's attention averted to  
other places. "Have you locked the door?" There was no reply, just hands at his hips.  
"Watson?"

Watson stopped and lowered down to Holmes' ear one more. He whispered, "You need not worry. All is safe as long as we are silent. We should probably move to the bed…" there was a pause and a sly grin. "…my man."

Holmes smiled and nodded.  
"Alright, let's do that before we carry on. I want to fall asleep  
beside you and not in a cold bed."

Watson checked the door before proceeding to the bed, where Sherlock Holmes was already waiting. He wore nothing whatsoever except for his own skin and a blanket which Watson had before so shamefully misnamed.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nice for Holmes to wake up draped across Watson's chest for  
once. Usually after they had committed what may have seemed barbaric  
in their society, they would part to their own rooms and wake alone.  
Yes, it was nice to have Watson to keep him warm. Going by the light  
through the window, it promised to be a warm day and perhaps, for  
Watson's delight, Holmes thought he might wear the cream suit he  
liked. Watson was woken by an unusual weight on his chest, and little movements. What had happened? Where was he? This was not Baker Street. Slowly, his mind emerged fully from the night's sleep, and with it came the memories of musk smell and his battered body, once again roaring with energy. It was wonderful to feel the warm rays of light that fell through the curtains, but what stunned Watson even more, was the beauty of the light-green pair of eyes that looked at him, and the happiness he felt with it. It was a happiness, which he was certain he would probably never feel again, for it belonged solely to this moment.

"Good morning Watson. Slept well I hope." Holmes said with a smile.

"Good morning, Holmes. I trust you also slept as well as I did…" the doctor replied, gently tracing the tips of his detective's delicately formed ears with his index finger. His detective…

"Of course," Holmes whispered, placing a kiss on Watson's chest. "All  
the better with you by my side… Or under me as it seems.

He chuckled softly. "Apparently, yes…" a few minutes passed in silence, until Watson broke it, "…I love you…Ho-Sherlock." and stroked his full, brown hair. "Since the moment I first set eyes on you at St. Bart's."

Holmes frowned. "R-Really? Ever since then?" He inquired, looking up  
at him. The room was silent, save the ticking from their watches on  
the table. Of course Watson had been prepared for a lecture that it was impossible that he could have loved him then, for there is no such thing as love at the first sight etc. etc. etc. So these, almost timid words, delighted him even more so. "It was the most spectacular thing to see this…light in your eyes. This spark of complete welfare and luck…" Watson looked down, their gazes met. "As is you had just discovered the world's innermost secrets…and I believe to have gotten a glimpse of it yesterday night too…"

Holmes smiled and laid his head back down "Perhaps my affections have  
not been for as long Watson, as you may understand, however they are  
of complete equal measure to your own. Ah, I could not think of  
another person I would rather spend my time and love on."

Watson bit his lip and cleared his throat. Long had he thought about what it might be like to be loved by the great Sherlock Holmes. Yes there were times when Watson had thought that this man was not even able to feel this sort of emotion, until this one, special evening when he was proved otherwise. Still, until this very moment, Holmes had never uttered a word about his feelings. It had always been just an act of physical love, and sometimes, just very seldom, gentle touches and the occasional cuddle in front of the chimney. Never more. Until now. After placing a kiss on Holmes' head, and beginning to stroke his sharply cut cheek, Watson mused, "Do you remember the evening we first committed…ugh…did…what we have done the previous night? When one thing led to the other for the first time?"

"Of course I do," Holmes said, his eyes now closed again, relishing in  
this attention. He knew they should be up and dressed by now if they  
wanted to catch breakfast before they had to meet Mrs Cartwright, but  
he was enjoying himself too much to care. "It was after that case  
concerning Lady Basgrove and her earring. We went back to Baker  
Street, argued about something or other and you kissed me. I was quite  
shocked you can quite imagine but delighted all the same."

"Yes…" Watson chuckled again, at the memory. "I did not know what I was doing, but it was the best thing I have ever done."  
All of a sudden, the weight on his chest was missing. Holmes had stood up. Watson looked at him in a rather puzzled manner, but as he saw the smile on his friend's face, and the watch in his hand, he knew that it was all for breakfast's sake.

"Come and dress or we'll be late for Mrs Cartwright, and I know you do  
not like to keep the ladies waiting Watson." Holmes jested, holding  
out his free hand. Very soon they were dressed and tucking into ham  
and eggs and not long after, they were setting off to meet their client.

"Thank you, Holmes." said Watson as they left the Inn and headed off

"What for?" Holmes asked, linking arms with his friend. He did settle  
with the cream suit in the end.

"Well…yesterday." replied Watson and smiled.  
"This suit fits you very well my friend. I am glad you have chosen it, instead of your grey hood and the deerstalker."  
Arm in arm, they walked off to the shore where Mrs Cartwright was waiting, supporting the picture of two perfect gentlemen.

They arrive just at the stroke of ten and greeted by the woman  
herself. "Well hello! Oh please do come in gentlemen. The sitting room  
is on the left.

The house itself was small, but cosy; overlooking the shore. It was a beautiful view.  
"Oh" stated Watson. "It must be wonderful to live here." and shot Holmes a meaningful look.

Holmes shot him one back.  
"Oh, it is good for business Doctor. A lot of tourists you see.  
Although it is my husband who was the photographer, not I." Mrs  
Cartwright muttered.

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Watson, who had heard the almost inaudible words, uttered by Mrs. Cartwright. "Did your husband fail to follow his duties?"

"Well, with him being missing, the business is useless. I cannot work  
a camera if my life depended on it and it appears that may happen if  
Henry does not come back."

Watson looked at the woman, then at Holmes. He didn't know what to say once more. "I can assure you, that there is no need to worry, Mrs Cartwright. Mr Holmes and I will find your husband."  
The woman sighed silently. "Shall we go outside, gentlemen?"

Holmes nodded. "Yes, it is a most beautiful day and it seems a waste  
to spend it indoors."

They walked down to the shore and along the beach, when suddenly Mrs Cartwright stopped and cried, "Mr Holmes, Dr Watson! Look! There is Henry's hat!" She ran towards the object and picked it up. Holmes and Watson watched the woman as she brought the battered felt hat to them. Holmes took it from her, examining it carefully. The name in it had worn away slightly, but was legible. "It is indeed Mr Cartwright's hat. Tell me madam, had he taken anything with him?"

"Well…he-Henry, was on his way to one of his clients. The things he took with him were the things he always used to carry around with him. His wallet is missing, his watch of course and also all the things he needs to do his photography." the nervous woman stammered. "Also his coat and his umbrella…"

"And you hadn't any 'robberies' before his disappearance?"

"N- No…this is a very safe town, you see. Oh! Henry! What has happened to you, dear?"  
The woman sank to her knees; desperately sobbing into her husband's hat. Holmes looked down at the Mrs Cartwright solemnly and then to Watson.  
"Your son, Peter, has he told you how he feels about all this?" Holmes asked. Watson looked at Holmes, astonished, that his friend would do so much as care about the poor woman's son.  
"Why, yes…" she creaked between her tears. "He had told me, that he missed his daddy very much. He also told me, that he wanted him to come back soon…"

"May I speak with him? I feel it is important to our investigation  
that we know his version of events."  
Mrs Cartwright nodded. Watson reached out, to help her to her feet. Then, they commenced the walk back to house, with Holmes leading the group, by going a good three yards ahead of the others. They approached the house, Holmes waiting by the door with a smile.  
"I'd prefer a private conversation with the lad if that is not of any  
inconvenience. I'm sure Watson can help you with an errand or whatever  
you have planned."

"Certainly." Watson said, tending to the Mrs Cartwright.  
"Thank you, Dr Watson. But let me fetch my son, before we go." She went to the foot of the stairs. "Peter, darling! Come down!" Only a few seconds later, the boy's face appeared at the door on the other end of the stairs.

"Don't be such a coward, Peter! Come down and greet these gentlemen!" The boy did as was told. "Now, I and Dr Watson here, will leave you for some minutes, because Mr Holmes wants to talk to you, alright?" She hugged and caressed her boy. "Be a good boy, and tell Mr Holmes everything he wants to know, alright?" She kissed him on the forehead, and then went out the door, together with Watson. Holmes smiled.

"Hello Peter. I am hoping that you can talk to me about  
your father."

"Y-yes, Mr Holmes. My father disappeared." The boy fiddled with his hands and tapped from one foot to the other. He was obviously very uncomfortable; talking to strangers. "I love my daddy, please bring him back Mr Holmes! You said you can bring him back."

"But you know already where he has gone, do you not Peter." Holmes  
said sternly. "Tell me what happened."  
Peter became nervous. He seemed to fight with himself over something and shook his head, like he was in a trance. "No- no, sir." there was a pause. With every second the boy became more and more fidgety. "I mustn't tell you. I- ugh—he said I mustn't tell anyone." A tear appeared on his reddened cheek. "He might get in trouble he said…umm…sir."

Holmes sat himself on the stairs, so he was at the boys eye level.  
"Did he run away with his lover?"

The boy stood there, not knowing what to reply. After a while, though, he gave in, for the man already knew his father's only dark and unholy secret. "Yes! Yes! Daddy went away with another man!" Peter swallowed all his tears. "The night before he left, daddy told me, that people were wrong! That England was a bad place, and that a man was allowed to love a man. Reverend Myers says that it's a deadly sin, and that men who love other men are sick! But not my daddy. He was not sick. He always loved me and mummy. He also said, he would come back and pick me up, at least to visit him and Mr Horatio. I like him too, Mr Horatio, sir. He often sends me some sweets from over the sea." Peter paused and then whispered comparatively, "Please don't tell mummy. I don't want my daddy to be in any trouble…"

Holmes sighed and nodded. "Thank you, it has been of much help." He  
took the boys hand. "I promise you I will not tell your mother of  
this. He is not a bad man Peter, I assure you that and I cannot be  
wrong."  
The boy's eyes widened. "So Reverend Myers is wrong? Daddy will go to heaven?"

Holmes nodded. "Of course he will. He has done nothing but fall in  
love and I do not believe Reverend Myers condemns that."  
Peter smiled, and, unexpectedly, fell into Holmes' arms, and hugged him as tight as a twelve year old boy only could. "Thank you Mr Holmes. Mummy knew you were a good man."

Holmes tensed up a little, a little shocked at the unexpected gesture, but  
he soon relaxed and hugged the lad back. "You're very welcome."

Right at this moment, Mrs Cartwright and Watson returned. Holmes, who faced the door rather than the boy, could see the doctor's smirk. The mother of the boy was of course overjoyed to see her son hugging Holmes, for she thought the case was all cleared up now. The only problem was for now, to find an explanation without breaking a promise. Holmes let go of Peter, cleared his throat and stood up, straightened his jacket.

"I believe Mrs Cartwright; I have come to a conclusion as to where  
your husband is."

"Oh Mr Holmes! I never once doubted that you wouldn't succeed! Please, tell me what happened to my husband!" the woman sighed in relief.

"Well…" Holmes started. He paused and looked at them all. "He is not  
coming back again." He continued. "He… He ran away with another woman.  
A French woman."  
Peter's eyes shortly met Holmes'. There was an expression in them that spoke of the greatest gratitude. However, his mother now sunk into a chair; but astonishingly did not cry. "Peter, go over to Billy for the next hour or two, to play, alright? Because what will come now is not for your tender years, my son. Not yet. Now." The boy went over to his mother and hugged her, before he went out the door, shooting the detective one last look. Mrs Cartwright sighed, and commenced to make her own confession.  
"Ah well…it is only right, I believe to let him go, for I have been sinful too, you see gentlemen. At first I thought it would only be a short affair, but now it seems, I'll have to accept the proposal someone made last week." All eyes in the room, even Holmes' were fixed on Mrs Cartwright's, and filled with the utmost amazement. "Who, you want to know?" another sigh. "It was Reverend Myers."

"Reverend Myers is giving up his patronage to the church for you?"  
Holmes asked in amazement, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes. Yes, he promised me to do so, if I would only marry him. Now that my husband Henry has gone away, I see no other way than to accept his offer."

"Mrs Cartwright, I understand the position you are in but you must  
understand that Mr Cartwright is not dead and you are still married.  
If you marry Mr Myers, you will be committing an act that could put you to prison."

"Not if I go away with Peter and Mr Zachariah Myers. To the continent, where everything is different." said Mrs Cartwright, beginning to feel rather helpless.

"We can always pronounce Mr Cartwright as dead. If I find him and  
write to him, telling him the situation, will you stay, for Peter's  
sake? I know a move to the continent can be hard for a lad of his age.  
He seems content here."  
Mrs Cartwright looked over to Holmes. "You-you would do that? If you keep your word, I am in your debt, Mr Holmes, and very deeply so. The past year of our marriage was not an easy one, you see."

Holmes nodded and smiled. "I can imagine Mrs Cartwright. He is happy, and  
I believe he wants you to be too. I believe he will be happy with the  
agreement."

The next day, Watson and Holmes went down to the beach. The weather proved to be even more pleasant than the day before, so Dr Watson felt the desire for some refreshment in the cool Blackpool-sea.  
"Let us take a swim, Holmes! It will do you good, my dear friend!" Watson chimed happily, after they had spent some time lying on the beach already. Holmes raised the hat that covered his eyes and gave a sigh and a  
frown. "No, no… You go. I shall remain here and ponder things. Anyhow,  
we haven't any bathing suits with us."

"It would be enough for me to just paddle around for a bit…"  
But he was cut off by Holmes.

"Watson, it's not happening." Holmes said, putting his hat back where  
it had been before.

Watson sank back into the sand, exhaling desperately. After a short while he came up with an idea. He leaned a little closer to Holmes, and whispered into his ear, "My dear, Holmes. I ask you one last time to come in the sea with me, or otherwise, I fear you will have had the last lustful experience with this body, two nights ago."

Holmes frowned underneath his hat and sat up. "Are you saying what I  
believe you are saying? Because if so, I do not believe you. You enjoy  
yourself too much."

"You remember that I was a soldier, Holmes. I can restrain myself of many things…" he whispered again. Holmes glared at him.

"Fine. I suppose it isn't rude to show your  
ankles on the beach."

Watson stood up and held out a hand to help his lover to his feet, but he declined and stood up himself.

"This will be the only time I allow you to win John Watson." Holmes  
muttered, bending down to untie his boots. Watson laughed happily and did the same. When both men were shoeless and their trousers were turned up, they made their way to the shore.

"You know I hate you for this." Holmes moaned, following after Watson  
with a frown. "It is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. I hope you know  
even Queen Victoria could never get me to trollop around in the  
ocean…"

"Oh don't be like that! Just step into the water! It'll be fun!" Watson cried, amused over his friend's words.

"Besides, you sound like a ten year old, from London, who has never learned to swim! Even young Peter up there," Watson pointed toward the approximate direction of their former client's house, "would show more courage than you do!"  
Of course this was just teasing. Holmes crossed his arms and pouted, shaking his head. "I do not know why I listen to you."

Watson decided that he had enough of this childish behaviour and took Holmes' hand, and, using the tiny moment of surprise, dragging Holmes into the water. There was nobody there who possibly could have seen this. Now, the time for reason was over. They managed to make some steps into the water, before Watson stumbled over a rock and fell. But because he had still held on to Holmes' sleeve he tore him also down right into the ocean. There they sat now, drenched as they were; surprisingly both laughing loudly.

The waves lapped at their backs, one even going over them and  
drenching them once again and yet neither of them stopped laughing.  
"Didn't I… Did I not say something like this w-would happen?" Holmes  
choked as another wave passed them. "I can't bloody get up!"  
Watson managed to get to his feet somehow, and helped his friend. "But you also have to admit, that it was worth it, and that it was fun after all!" cried he, still chuckling from time to time. Holmes huffed and brushed his wet hair out of his face, turning to look at Watson, a small smile creeping across his face.

"Yes, yes it was."

One week later, the couple was back in Baker Street; the life at the apartment number 221b, started to return to what might be called a routine. Even tough, everything was not as it had been before this most upsetting business.

Watson came down into the living room, just having ended a good night's rest, to find his friend, and now also lover sitting at the breakfast table. His face did not give away any significant information, until the moment he saw the doctor.

"Good morning Watson. I have received a reply to my letter to Mr  
Cartwright, do come and sit down and I shall read it to you. " Holmes  
said, gesturing him to the chair where his breakfast was waiting.

"Good morning Holmes!" Watson gave a hearty yawn. "That is great news. Pray read it to me, I'm very thrilled to hear what he says!" Watson sat down opposite Holmes, beginning to load his plate with heaps of breakfast, whilst listening to what was read out to him.

Holmes put down his pipe and began to read.  
"Mr Holmes,  
I must say I was quite shocked when I received your letter. I am glad to hear Peter is alright; I was afraid I had put such a pressure upon him, but I needed to tell someone and I knew I could trust him. I am so relieved that Marie has found company with a well-known friend and even more relieved you have not reported me to the police. My hope in humanity is raised by your acceptance for me and Mr Horatio. We are both extremely grateful to you and Dr Watson for everything.  
Henry Cartwright.

P.S One more thing. Would you, if it is not too much of a request, write to Peter and let him know that I am fine and that I love him. "

Watson almost choked on his tea, when he realized, what this letter had just revealed to him.  
"But…Holmes! Didn't you tell Mrs Cartwright that her husband ran away with a French _woman_?"

"Well I was not going to tell her the truth now, was I? Holmes chided. "What good would it have been? At least if she thinks he is with another woman, she will allow him contact his son. And would it not be 'pot calling the kettle black' if we were to expose Mr Cartwright and Mr Horatio?"

"Yes…yes…" Watson said; still sounding surprised.  
"You're very right, Holmes. I'm…I'm quite staggered. That's all." he kept staring on some point on the tablecloth. It took him some time, to look at his friend again.  
"I-It was a very good decision, Holmes. I am glad you acted like you did." another lengthy silence. "I am proud of what you have done."

Holmes smiled and tossed the letter across to him. "I just thought about what we would do in that situation. Not to mention I promised young Peter that his Father would be safe and I always keep my word my promises." He stood up and made his way round the table, checking the door to make sure their house keeper was not in the hallway, before wrapping his arms around Watson's waist and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Talking of promises, when you finish your round, I'll be waiting."


End file.
